


What could have I become

by ilaiza



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bed time stories, Crying Harry, Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:25:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilaiza/pseuds/ilaiza
Summary: Hermione was sitting in the common room with Harry and Ron, reading a story."Are you alright?" She asks as she finished."Yeah, just something in my eye." Harry returns





	What could have I become

Once upon a time there was a little boy named Corvus. He was born in a beautiful mansion of into the forest far away from New York. His mother loved him dearly. She would read him stories of robe clad people with stars coming out of the tip of wooden sticks called wands. She would hold little baby Corvus in her arms and paint pictures of blazing dragons flying above him exhaling fire balls and hippogriffs would land on his nose to calm down the crying child. Her fingers would dance through the air leaving colorful strokes and unicorns running over the blue and pink hues. Deep into the nights the servants would hear her reading books about healing plants and love potions, about elixirs to fuel courage and how to play Quiditch. She spent every minute of her day with baby Corvus explaining the magical world to him so when he grows up to he would be prepared.

One day the mother fell sick and become bed ridden for days. Doctors would come and go all with gloom faces. They would give her different herbs and teas, spread peppermint ointments over her chest and wave their wands but to no prevail. Her health was deteriorating and soon the doctors gave up. They focused their worries upon relieving her of her pain.

Little Corvus now five years old never left her sight. The would lay in bed for days, with his head on her pillow and his legs curled up in her arms. He told her the stories she whispered to him. His little fingers drawing in her skin the steps the hero took and the downfalls he went through to prevail. Corvus would struggle to speak, to keep the magical world spinning as he yawns and his eyes fall heavy, fill with sleepiness. His mother would run her fingers through his soft strands and kiss his forehead and hug him tighter to her as they fall asleep.

The first time sparks appeared from his fingers was when Corvus tried to blast a rock to pieces. The rock stood whole and at the same spot as before but his excitement that magic was flowing through his veins sent him running and tripping up the stairs to his mother’s bedroom.

As he reached the last step his father stood in front of the door, his face grim and dark. He was surrounded by doctors who were whispering to each other. Corvus was young to understand his mother’s death. His sobs filled the hallway as he demanded to see his mother. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to show her the sparks. They were bright and warm just like her hugs and he wanted her to see. He quickly stepped towards the door and reached for the handle. Corvus had to show here the sparks! His fingers hadn’t reached the cold metal of the handle when he heard his father speak. The clatter of hills echoed in the space and a woman grabbed him and carried him away from his mother. Further and further away He wanted to see her and tell her, his mother would be so proud of him. The woman didn’t put him down, instead she descended down the stairs and Corvus could no longer see the door.

Mary Lou Barebone despised anything she couldn’t control. The old lady with the Tarot cards around the corner was one of them. However Mary Lou hated Corvus. She lived with her adopted children in an old filthy house. All of them she found on the streets begging for food. Except Corvus. Corvus was special. He was brought up with what Mary Lou named “wicked and unnatural”. She now called him Credence. Any trace of his mother’s warm hugs erased as she was nothing but a freak.

Credence grew up not knowing about his mother’s nightly bed time stories or the fireplace in the mansion filled with dragons flying in the fire. He forgot about the time he did magic and the devastating death of his mother. He only knew the life Mary Lou Barebone gave him.

Credence watched his adopted brothers and sisters talk about New Salem Philanthropic Society. Mary Lou told them they were doing good, that they were helping America in showing them the existence of these wicked creatures. She refused to call them by their proper name, too afraid that a witch might appear and strike her dead.    

Mary Lou’s hatred towards witches increased with every day Credence aged. She despised him so much that in her effort to distance him from magic her hand reached towards more unconventional method of schooling. She would regularly use his own belt to inflict pain, often leaving marks.

Credence was afraid. He couldn’t step outside the rules. He had a bed and food at the end of the day if he earned it. He worked hard to be good.

He could understand what Mary Lou was afraid of. He saw it inside him. He could feel the raw energy bubbling in his veins. He was different. Nobody else had the disease he head. He must have been born with it. That was what Mary Lou told him every day as she grabbed the belt. This would help, he thought to himself. It would help push down this disease, his weirdness. Magic was bad. The Second Salemers spoke of it. Credence would repeat its warnings everyday to strangers passing by. He was loathsome and abnormal. Every night he would stay still and receive what he deserves.

Late one night Credence heard laughter coming from his sister Modesty's room. He went in to scold her to go to bed. But one thing stopped him in the doorway. She was holding what appeared to be a wooden stick with elegant carvings around the base and, branches and leaves following the length of it up till the tip. Modesty motioned for him to come in, giving him the wand as he reached for it, drawn by an invisible pull. Credence rapped his fingers around the wand and sparks appeared. The same ones that happened when he was a young boy and magic was a friend. Ashamed of himself he threw the wand to the floor and it rolled under the bed. He shouldn’t have been tempted this easily. Credence deserved to be punished. What he had inside of him could only bring harm to others.

It was a windy night when Mary Lou appeared before him. Her hand was clenched around the wand, her face twisted and red. Mary Lou’s voice came in a quite whisper, demanding to know how this twig ended under Modesty’s bed.

The fear on Credence’s face grew. Mary Lou snapped the wand in half, splitting it through the middle. He could see the last sparks of its magical core die. She extended her hand towards him waiting for Credence to move. To move his hands down to his belt and remove it, to hand it over to her and to turn around and stand still. The light inside the wand disappeared. His breath was coming quicker as his fists trembled near his sides. In that moment he knew he had to give up, to stay still and let it come over him, the thing he deserved, what had been buried deep inside of him.

As time passed New York forgot the destruction that came that stormy night. There were a few witches who remembered Credence and visited the house of the Second Salemers. They would hold their wands up with the tips glowing into the darkness of the night. A tragedy they would call it, one that could have easily been prevented. And then they would disappear like they were never there. 

Hermione closed the book as she finished the story. Ron was looking at her, sadness filled his eyes.

“What was it called again?” He asked, not being able to handle the silence.

“An Obscurial, a young wizard who suppressed their magic” Her voice was barely above a whispered. She shifted on the couch to look at Harry.

“Harry, are you alright?” Hermione looked at him, worry written over her face. “Is your scar hurting again?” She asked.

Harry looked up at her. “Yeah, I was just …” He quickly wiped off the tears pooling in his eyes. ”There was something in my eye.” He finally said looking away a little embarrassed.   

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I haven't written anything in awhile. I hope you like this. I had the idea a long time ago and forgot where I was going with it. Anyway tell me if you like it, I would appreciate the feedback, my darlings.


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